Vita Nuova
by MagnoliaSunrise
Summary: "New Life"  The world of Mages & Templars is a complicated one. It doesn't always make sense, even to those who live it. Many long to get away, using any means possible.  -Alternate time line.  -NeriaXCullen/Alistair. -Commission. -Feedback welcomed!3


_**Part One**_

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

The group huddled closer, watching as the Templars gingerly carted away the tiny broken form.

"What do you think happened to her?" whispered a terrified Apprentice.

"Don't know. They won't tell us anything." replied another.

"I heard she was beaten pretty badly." A girl shuddered, "Tossed around like a ragdoll… She'll be in the infirmary for a while."

"Poor dear. Just like last month, isn't it? Except it was a boy that time, I think…"

The oldest boy scoffed, "Well, at least it's the elves getting roughed up instead of us."

"How can you say that? Here we are all equals, and what happens to one of us affects all of us." A second girl chastised him. The rest nodded in hollow assent.

"Yeah, well, I was just saying what most of us were thinking. You can't deny it. Whether you like them or pity them or whatever, you know it's true." He glowered at his friends as he walked away.

Inwardly, each one darkly agreed.

****OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO****

"Oh my goodness. If you're saying… what I _think_… But, that… No, it would b-be very inappropriate. I-I couldn't… _We_ shouldn't-" He began to slowly back away.

"Wait! No, not like _that_! I'm sorry. I-I misspoke… I just… I just thought that maybe…"

"Maybe what?" He asked cautiously.

"I thought that maybe we, me and you, could… I… No, never mind. I'm sorry." She whispered, her head hung in shame and embarrassment, hair shielding eyes that would reveal everything. Oh Maker, how he wished he could see those eyes.

She turned to walk away, but he placed a metal hand on her shoulder. She stopped, instantly frigid. Cursing himself, he glanced around and, seeing no one else in the corridor, ungloved his hands. He cupped her chin, forcing her to face him.

She was blinking back tears.

A pain knifed through him, so severe, unlike anything he had ever felt. He had caused those tears. He never wanted to hurt her, yet could see no way not to. He felt ill, and unsure of what to do, he just stared, his eyes searching hers.

Finally, he drew her into his arms. He held her tightly, inhaled her scent, reveled in the softness of her hair as he ran his fingers carelessly through it, something he had wanted to do for so, so long.

Her arms hung limply at her side. Then with a shaking sob, she wrapped them around his waist, pressing her body against his armor. For once, he was grateful for the blasted metal suit; if he could have felt her body against his… He might not have been able to contain himself. Instead he held her, letting her shed tears for the two of them, quietly wishing for something that could never be.

"Where in Ferelden could she be?" mumbled a distant, familiar voice.

"It's Jowan…" She whispered.

Reluctantly, he let her go. She began to slip away, but not before he grabbed her hand. He brushed his lips against her palm, placed something on top of the kiss, and curled her fingers around it.

He looked at her again, her face red and mottled from crying. Whatever makeup she may have worn now coursed down her cheeks, her hair a tangled mess from his hands. Yet he still thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

"Go."

She hesitated, her hand clutched to her chest.

"Please, go." He pleaded. She smiled at him, an expression that made his knees weak, and took off down the corridor, away from the voice.

"Oh, Cullen, could I have a word with you?" Called the voice as it rounded the turn,

"Jowan." He nodded curtly, thoroughly annoyed by the man's presence.

"Just wondering if you might have any idea where our intrepid little prodigy might be?"

"Not at all. Besides, how should I know where she is?" He had always been jealous of the bond they shared.

"Well, for one, you knew exactly to whom I was referring. Two; _**you **_are drenched in _**her **_perfume. I could smell it a mile away," Jowan grinned broadly as Cullen sniffed the air, "And three; we're best friends, like siblings. She tells me everything, and I tell her everything. I know how she feels, and it's not hard to figure how you feel."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Of course you _don't_," He scoffed, producing a small vial from his robes, "Here, use this. Don't worry, it's _just _cologne." Jowan saw the other man's suspicious glare, "Nothing illegal, no _**blood magic **_at work here, despite the rumors." He spat the words. "Dowse yourself in it, unless you want to be smelling like Andraste's Grace, cinnamon, and roses. Can't imagine old Greagoir would be too happy about it, though."

"Where did you get this?" Cullen suddenly, spitefully, found himself warming to the other man.

"Does it matter?" The Apprentice regarded the Templar warily.

"To me, yes." He smiled slyly, "I just might want to buy some. It smells bloody good."

Jowan visibly relaxed again, "Well, to be perfectly honest, we make it. The Tranquil make their brew, why can't we make something to be proud of?" He asked the question to no one in particular.

"Just remember what Andraste said about pride. Where do you get the oils?"

"Carroll." He stated, matter-of-factly. Sensing Cullen's disbelief, he shrugged, "What that man wouldn't do for a plate of sweets. Anyway, I'd best be off. Got to track down our little Elven witch. I need her help with something very… _important_. Let her know if you see her, please."

"Will do." They mockingly saluted one another.

As Jowan walked away, Cullen dabbed a few drops of the cologne on his neck. Re-corking the bottle, he leaned against the cold, stone wall. Thoughts of her drifted back into his mind, her sweet-smelling hair, the way her skin felt against his lips, how she fit into his arms with such ease, as if it were just… **right**.

But, of course, it could never be _just right_.

Never.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Cullen was standing with a group of other Templars, talking about nothing of importance as a group of female Apprentices walked by.

"Cullen." They giggled in unison. He nodded a greeting, and rolled his eyes. The other Templars gave him a ribbing over it, until _she _walked by. Books against her chest, and Jowan keeping pace along beside her, she didn't say anything, just met his eyes and smiled.

The others greeted her with choruses of "Hello, Neria!", "Hey, Neria!", and "Neria, how's it going?"

She ignored them all.

_Coincidentally_, a few of her books managed to slip out of her arms, directly in front of Cullen. He smiled, bending to pick them up. She bent to get them as well. They reached for the same book, and their hands met. He smiled. Neria blushed, and looked away.

They straightened, and he held the books out to her, bowing slightly.

"Thank you." She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper and began walking away.

"You are most welcome, _my_ lady."

She stopped, letting the obvious intonation of the word sink in. Then with deft confidence, she turned back around, "Ser Cullen, I hope this won't seem too forward of me, but I was wondering if you would be interested in a game of chess some time? With Jowan as the arbitrator, of course, if that is appropriate?" she played with the locket that was resting between her breasts.

He pried his eyes away from her hand, and tried to look surprised, "Oh, um, yes. I believe that would be satisfactory."

"Lucky bastard…" someone mumbled behind him.

Before she could reply, Owain came dashing up beside her. He addressed Cullen directly, "I apologize if I am interrupting, but I believe I have urgent need of your assistance." His monotone voice was disconcerting.

"I shall see you later, then." Neria waved, disappointment vivid in her face.

"Of course." Cullen bowed again, then turned his attention back to the Tranquil, "Now, Owain, what is the problem?"

"There has been an incident in the stockroom. I believe you should see it for yourself to understand the gravity of the situation. I have ordered the other Tranquil to keep everyone out of the room until I have alerted the proper authorities."

"Alright then," he nodded "Lead the way."

**O**

Such a brutal act against such a hapless victim deserved more than pity, but at that moment it was all he could muster. Cullen tried to remember his name. Reddric, Edric? He shook his head. It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting the boy to the Infirmary as quickly as possible.

Owain appeared beside him, "I have alerted the Knight-Commander. He asked me to inform you of his impending arrival and that he shall alert First Enchanter Irving himself."

Cullen nodded, "Thank you, Owain, but could you tell them that we will be taking the boy to the Infirmary right away? We've waited long enough, and his wounds need to be taken care of right now."

"Very well." He replied, and was off again.

"Now then," he said, picking up the Elven boy, "Let's get you some proper help…"

**O**

Cullen tenderly laid the young boy down on a bed. He grimaced when the boy cried out through cracked lips, his face a bloody, swollen mess. Pity had given way to shocked and anger; the boy had been beaten within an inch of his life, left to die alone, in the darkness and cold of the stockroom. The attacker planned it to a 'T'; dinner-time, when most everyone would be in the dining hall, even the First Enchanter, Knight-Commander and Tranquil. He had hidden the boy behind some dusty crates. If Owain hadn't gone in to get a form for Sweeney and didn't notice they had been slightly moved, well…

The Spirit Healers surrounded the boy, applying Injury Kits and spells. Irving and Greagoir were talking, inaudibly, yet highly animated. The fury in the room was palpable; it was the third attack on Elven Apprentices and they were no closer to finding the culprit since they started. Once a month seemed to be the assailant's taste, and he was very meticulous, taking extra strides each time to make sure the victim wouldn't be found for a while.

Fear for Neria suddenly flooded him, but quickly abated; she was no longer an Apprentice, having passed her Harrowing with flying colours last month. Yet he still had a mildly uneasy feeling. The first attack was on a new young, male Apprentice, the second on one half-way through her training, and the third on this boy who was close to taking on his Harrowing. It was only logic that dictated the next victim would be another female, no longer an Apprentice, and it would probably be more vicious than the last. The fact that none of them seemed to remember their attacker's face struck Cullen as odd, but he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he asked the Knight-Commander if he could take his leave now, and having been given permission, set off to find Neria before curfew.

**O**

She stood in front of the long window in the darkened Commons Room, watching reflections glimmer across the still waters. Moonlight shone in, giving her an ethereal, ghostly appearance.

"Is it as bad as they say?" she asked him as he came up beside her.

He toyed with the idea of lying to her, to save some pain, but thought better of it, "Yes. Irving said that if Owain didn't find him when he did, the boy might not have made it."

"Why?" a single tear slid down her cheek.

Cullen sat on the chair next to her, taking her hand, "I don't know." he said honestly, "Maker knows I wish I did."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I."

Like an echo of the month before, not caring who saw or what they would think or say, he took her into the fold of his arms and let her weep.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"So…" Jowan mused.

"'So' what?" She asked innocently, knowing exactly what was coming.

"So when are you going to tell me what's been making you gaze off dreamily lately?"

"I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about." Grabbing a chicken leg from the buffet, she flashed him a brilliantly inconspicuous smile.

"Funny. Play dumb with me, but I know about you're little dalliance with our intrepid Templar friend." He muttered as they took their seats in the dining hall.

"Really, Jowan? I thought you were above the idle gossip here, especially since that last bit of rubbish going on about **you**. Also, 'Intrepid' again? You've used it every day for the past four, maybe five weeks. Is that you're word of the season or something?"

"Again, funny. I just happen to like that word, means so many different things, most of them very good. Many of them I would use to describe you… And _him_, for that matter."

"Yes, well, he is rather_ intrepid_, isn't he?" She hummed absently.

"Mm-hmm, quite; daring, fearless, valiant, courageous, gallant… Yet very resolute."

"Resolute?" She arched an inquiring eyebrow.

"Yes, Neria, _resolute_; stanch, unyielding, stubborn, very steadfast in his ways. He won't change, he can't change. With him, duty comes first, second and third. Everything else, well… I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"Jowan, I…" Placing a delicate hand over his, they looked into each other's eyes, and that was all that was needed.

"I understand." He said at last, "It's the same with Lily…"

"Ah, right, _Lily_, the imaginary fat cow you're presumably shagging in the Chapel."

"Neria! She's not a fat cow, nor imaginary." He hissed, "And, well, yes to that last bit…" Jowan bit back a smile as he watched his life-long friend nearly choke on her bread.

"You didn't?" She gasped.

"Keep it down! Yes, we did… Haven't you?"

"Maker, no! We haven't even kissed... Wait, when?"

"A few nights ago…"

"Where?"

"As you said, in the Chapel… Look, can we talk about this somewhere more private? People are starting to stare…" He glanced about, self-consciously.

"Fine! Meet me in the upper library, where Niall and Torrin usually chat, after curfew. I want details!"

"After curfew? B-but, I can't, you know that. _You_ might be able to get away with it; you're an actual Mage now. I'm still just an Apprentice."

"We'll just tell anyone who asks that I'm tutoring you." She shrugged as she stood, "I'll see you later tonight."

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I… have to meet up with someone, before dinner is over. I don't have much time."

"Well, I wonder whom _that_ might be, and what you might be _doing_." He quipped

"It's not like that. Not like _you're_ little trysts, anyway. It is extremely tame." She chuckled, ignoring his sarcasm, "Anyway, I have to go. See you later." Neria waved, and rushed out of the dining hall.

Jowan shook his head as he watched his friend dash out of the room and disappear down the corridor. His eyes narrowed as a plain-clothes Templar he didn't recognize stared at her with great interest as well, and then followed. He swore under his breath; that Templar sure as Hell wasn't Cullen, and suddenly very worried, he jumped up and ran off, hoping to catch up with her before someone else did.

**O**

"Cullen?" Neria called out, "I'm here!"

She looked about the little alcove. The chess table was undisturbed, the candles unlit. With a wave of her hand, the tiny room was instantly illuminated. Neria took a seat, drumming her fingers on the table. The flames danced in tune to her tapping, drawing flickering shadows across walls.

"Guess I'm early then…" She sighed, resting her chin in her hand. While waiting, she let her thoughts wander, and not surprisingly they fell on Cullen.

**O**

"Cullen! Cullen, wait!" Jowan yelled, breathless and sweating.

Cullen turned around, an eyebrow arched and a smirk playing on his lips; the sight of the obviously out of shape and overtly worked-up man was certainly something to behold. His robes were drenched and his hair was plastered to his forehead.

"Have you set fire to your bunk again, Jowan?" Cullen asked nonchalantly.

"Funny," The Apprentice buckled over, panting, "Have you seen Neria?"

"This again? No, I have not and probably will not any time soon." He tried to feign indifference, but failed, miserably, "What's wrong, man?"

"She said she was going to meet up with you. Well, she didn't actually say _that_, but it was strongly implied." He massaged his leg, a stitch beginning to form, "She left the dining hall, but this other Templar was watching and followed her. I lost them both."

"Other Templar?" Jealousy stabbed at him.

"Yes, this plain-clothes fellow. Never seen him before, but the look on his face as he watched her… We knew about the assaults on the Elven Apprentices but I didn't… I knew I had to either follow them or find you. You don't think he'd…?" Jowan's panic was rising.

"I don't know. Maybe. Look, we don't have time for this, Come on!"

**O**

Neria was still enveloped in happy thoughts of her Templar Knight, when a heavy hand suddenly clamped down on her shoulder. She had hardly any time to react before he spun her around, caught her by the hair, and held a jagged blade against her throat. She tried Winter's Grasp, but his aura repelled it.

"Not a word or a move, else it'll be worse for you." He snarled, pulling her to a stand, and then pushing her onto the table.

Shadows masked his face, but his green eyes gleamed sadistically. He let go of her hair, and still with the dagger against her throat, ran his free hand over her body. Tears sprang to her eyes. He moved between her legs, prying them apart, pushing up the skirts of her robes. Bile rose in her throat.

"P-please don't-" she gagged as he pressed the knife harder against her neck. She could feel the cool blade gently slice into her flesh, a searing pain that left her painfully numb.

"You are… The most **hated **being in Thedas; an elf, a woman and a Mage, all rolled into one little..." His words were laced with venom, meant to sting and burn, "Worthless whore." He muttered, before forcing his mouth upon hers.

Hot acid flooded her throat, she couldn't hold it in. He pulled back, as if scalded and slapped her hard.

"Stupid knife-eared bitch!" The assailant dropped the knife and clawed at her skirt. She kicked and scratched and bit, crying out for help.

Suddenly her attacker was hefted bodily into the air and slammed against the greystone.

"You bastard!" Bellowed Cullen, one hand around the man's neck, the other pressing his face into the wall, "I should gut you like the corrupted beast you are!"

"W-wait, you don't understand," he gasped, his face purpling, "Sh-she attacked me!" Cullen squeezed tighter, "I mean it! She's a b-blood-"

"Don't even try it." He growled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jowan helping Neria sit up. She was shaking uncontrollably, trying to wipe away the tears and blood and vomit. Anger seared through his veins, fueling a rage he wasn't aware he could marshal, "Look at her! Look at what you did! You filthy… Give me one good reason why I shouldn't break your neck this very moment?"

A wrinkled hand fell upon his arm, "Because, my child, that would make you no better than him." replied a wizened voice. Irving quietly separated Cullen from the assailant. The young man fell to the floor, struggling for air.

"Torrin, Ser Bran, please take this… boy to the Knight-Commander. Explain what has transpired here. I am sure he will know what to do with him. As for you," his gaze shifted back to Cullen, "You and Jowan escort the young lady to the infirmary. I will meet you there as soon as we are done with him." He turned to leave.

"Of course, First Enchanter." Cullen bowed, "But, ser, if I may?"

"Yes?"

"How did you know…?" Unprovoked fear clouded his face.

Irving smiled, his eyes softening, "Well, to be honest, my boy, we followed you. Jowan running is such a rare occurrence, I knew it must be serious."

**O**

Jowan paced outside the hospice with undisguised anxiety.

"What's taking so long? They're only healing her. She should have been out hours ago!" he exclaimed.

Cullen, who was sitting in quiet contemplation, said softly, "Maybe they're questioning her. First Enchanter and Greagoir are both in there. Given the circumstances, I'd be rather surprised if they didn't." He rubbed his eyes, "They'll probably question us, too, as well as Bran and Kinnon, and anyone else within earshot." His mind drifted back to Neria on the table, that bastard between her legs… Rage flooded him again, along with shame; he could have killed him. While the man was certainly not an innocent, he _was_ a fellow Templar and servant of the Chantry. The fact that he had almost brought death to someone not unlike himself had left him shaken.

Irritation showed in Jowan's face, "The least they could do is let us know if she's okay."

"Just sit down, please. You're going to wear a hole in the floor." Cullen just shook his head in his hands when Jowan ignored him.

It was another hour before First Enchanter Irving and Knight-Commander Greagoir exited the room.

Cullen jumped to his feet, "How is she?" he asked, saluting to both men.

"Please, no need for formalities, my boy," said Irving, "Neria is fine. Quite shaken up, but she will be just fine. They're keeping her for the night, just to be on the safe side. As for you two-"

"Yes, as for you two," Greagoir cut him off, "I have a few questions. Since we already know the majority of what happened when you intervened, all I want to know is how did you know she was in trouble?" He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for a reply.

"We didn't, actually, ser. Neria was going to tutor me. I thought we might need a Templar, just in case any of my spells went awry, ser." Jowan offered with a sheepish grin, "I think we all know I need all the tutoring I can get after the bunk incident… I just wanted someone I could trust, and I trust Cullen, ser."

"And she was to tutor you _before _or_ after_ the chess game she had planned with Cullen?" the Knight-Commander sighed impatiently.

"After, ser. We meet for chess every other week, with Jowan or Bran, or both, acting as the chaperones. We know how inappropriate it might seem for a Templar and Mage to do so without one." Cullen spoke quickly, meeting his superior's eye, trying to exude confidence he didn't at that moment possess. He prayed it would work.

"I see, and you were to fetch Cullen, then?" Greagoir turned his attention back to Jowan.

"Immediately after dinner, ser. We wanted to get started as soon as possible."

"And then after the game?"

"We were to wait for Cullen to get his armor, and then go to the room with the basement doors, near the main doors. It's usually deserted this time of day, save for a few Templars, and very spacious, ser…"

"Yes, well, it's a good thing you both showed up when you did. Had it not been for you two… well, I don't think I need to say any more on that." he looked grim, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a delinquent that needs dealing with. Gentlemen." He saluted them before walking away.

Irving waited until he was sure Greagoir was out of sight and earshot before he turned back to the two young men. "Now, my boy, you are quite lucky the Knight-Commander is usually very trusting of his men," he chuckled, "Otherwise, you would have had a world of hurt for such blatant lying."

"Lying, ser?" Cullen looked offended. Jowan bit his lip to keep in a snort.

"Don't play dumb with me, young man. I'm not about to report you for liking someone, nor if it turns out to be more than that. I've known quite a few Templars in my time who have taken a liking to Mages, both male and female. As long as it is consentual and reciprocated, I have no qualms."

"T-thank you, ser." He blushed.

"In fact, I'm quite sure that if you supplied Greagoir with enough drink, he might even have a few tales to tell you himself," the old man smiled, "But, you didn't hear that from me. Now then, where was I? Oh yes, I've cleared the room of staff for now, but they will be back within an hour or so. If you wish to speak with our Sister in private, I suggest you do it now and quickly."

"Yes, of course, ser, thank you." Cullen and Jowan gave a short bow, and then rushed through the doors.

**O**

The Infirmary was a dimly lit room, lined with beds on either side, each with a curtain for privacy. In the very last bed was Neria, gazing out the window at the setting sun.

"You can almost see Redcliff from here." she whispered absently as they approached.

"Are you alright?" Jowan took the seat nearest her, "We've been worried sick. They wouldn't tell us anything other than you're fine, but Andraste's ass, you don't look it!"

She didn't answer him, just patted his hand. Neria's eyes were fixed on the sunset.

Cullen, still standing, took in the sight of her, straight-backed and strong-willed. She was very pale, save for the small red scratches on her arms and the bruise on her cheek. The cut on her neck was little more than a purple scar. Despite that, she actually _did_ look fine. But he knew the real damage was inside, something magic could not mend.

"Maybe one day we could go there." he said at length, inching closer, "I've never been, myself, but I hear it's nice this time of year."

She smiled, beautifully, radiantly, "I'd like that."

Jowan stared at them, and this time, it was his turn to be jealous.

"You know, I could ask one of the nursemaids if they would bring in a chess table for us. Have a game or two while you're in. Just something to pass the time by."

"No, Jowan, that's fine. I doubt I'll be able to look at a chess table the same way for a while." Her laugh was bitter.

"Neria, did he…?" Cullen's heart felt heavy.

"No… No, he didn't. My virtue remains intact. My stability, however…"

Cullen strode over to the bed, and knelt beside it. He took her hand, kissed it, and held it against his face, silently promising that no one would hurt her again.

Feeling as if he were intruding on the moment, and sensing he was no longer needed, Jowan cleared his throat, "If it's fine by you two, I think I'll take my leave now. I'm going to the Chapel to meet up with Lily. I'm fairly certain she's heard about this, and then some, by now. I'll just let her know you're okay." He headed for the door.

"Thank you. For everything." Neria called out, "And try to bring her to see me tomorrow. You know my secrets. It's about I meet yours."

"Of course, absolutely. If she's free, that is." He rubbed the back of his head, "But you might be disappointed; she's not nearly as fat, bovine or imaginary as you make her out to be." He replied and shut the door.

"Lily, huh?" Cullen took Jowan's seat.

"Yes, Lily. I've no idea who the poor girl is, but I've been teasing him about it for months now. She must be a Saint to put up with him."

"Definitely not a Saint," he remarked, "But pretty damn close. Anyway, since chess is out of the question, how about cards?"

"Cards? I'm afraid I don't know any card games."

"That's fine, I'll teach you." He produced a pack from his back pocket and dealt them on the bed, "Ever hear of 'Diamondback'?"

"Can't say I have. Why?"

"Shame, but as I said, I'll teach you. It's a game played by Dwarven prostitutes."

"Dwarven prostitutes?" she laughed, "Do I even want to know who taught you?"

"One of the older Templars, said he learnt it from a Dwarven Smith who was visiting the Tower." Cullen shrugged, "He also said he lost his chest plate, helm and shirt."

"So you play for clothes?"

"Not necessarily, but we can if you want."

Her eyes danced wickedly, "And if I said yes?"

"Greagoir might just have to kill me," he smirked, "But at least I'd die a happy man."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Neria walked along the corridor slowly, her steps echoing throughout the empty halls. She had passed Cullen a moment ago, standing guard, as usual. When she had passed him, he smiled broadly and winked. The mere sight of him sent her heart pounding, and combined with those gestures, she had a hard time keeping her knees from buckling.

He chuckled quietly, a low deep rumble. He had to know what he did to her, as she was certain her face had flushed. Neria couldn't believe how the tables had turned; barely two months ago _she _was the one making him babble and stutter like an idiot. His personality had changed, seemingly overnight, after her Harrowing. No longer the stern, serious Templar, he was jovial, easy-going and relatively carefree.

Thumbing the locket he gave her, she smiled to herself, remembering his reaction when she asked to see him in private, and the way he held her after he rejected her. She only wanted to talk, actually get to know him better, yet he thought it was something more. Now they thought it was hilarious, laughing about it for hours on end some days, but Neria still felt a twinge of embarrassment whenever he brought it up. She never asked him why he had given her the locket, especially so soon, but just accepted it for what it was and what it meant; a symbol of his love.

She was still smiling to herself when she neared Irving's study. She could hear voices, arguing. Peaking around the corner, she saw Irving, Greagoir and a third tall, dark-haired, bearded man.

"Gentlemen, please. Irving, someone is here to see you." Said the tall, bearded man.

"You sent for me, First Enchanter?" she asked in a small voice, worried eyes jumping from one man to the next.

"Ah yes, if it isn't our newest Sister to the Circle."

"I am far from the newest, ser. Diana's Harrowing was just last week."

"How right you are. Well, that might be, but you _are_ the most memorable." He chuckled.

"This is…?" asked the man, nodding approvingly. Neria met his intense eyes.

"Yes, this is **she**."

"Well Irving, you are obviously busy, we will discuss this later." Greagoir's annoyance was clear as he stormed out the room.

"Of course, well then, where was I? Ah, yes, this is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens." Irving motioned to the man.

"Pleased to meet you." Neria bowed, studying him. He was graying at the temples, his long hair tied back. He looked tired, haggard, and yet oddly at peace.

"You've heard about the war brewing in the south, I expect. Duncan is recruiting mages to join the King's army in Ostagar."

"I would like to defend Ferelden." She could barely contain her sudden excitement; a chance to leave the Tower!

"With the Darkspawn invading we need all the help we can get, especially from the Circle."

"What do you mean?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, "The power you mages wield is an asset to any army. You're spells are very effective against large groups of mindless Darkspawn. I fear if we don't drive them back, we may see another Blight."

"Duncan, you worry the poor girl with talks of Blights and Darkspawn."

"We live in troubled times, my friend." Duncan replied darkly, "At any rate, I will return to my quarters."

"Yes, of course," Irving said, turning to her, "Would you be so kind as to escort Duncan back to his room, child?"

"It would be my pleasure." She bowed again.

"The guest quarters are on the East side of this floor, close to the library. Now if you will both excuse me, I have matters to discuss with Greagoir." Irving smiled and nodded, heading for the Templar's quarters.

On the way to Duncan's room, they neared Cullen, who raised an inquiring eyebrow when he saw them. Neria stopped a few feet short of him, and asked loud enough for him to hear, "So, Ser Grey Warden, is it true you have the right to recruit anyone, any time?" Cullen's eyebrows rose further, hearing that the man she was with was a Grey Warden, a hero of legend and lore.

He chuckled, "Call me Duncan, please. And we can conscript anyone, yes, but try not to practice it often; we prefer not to make any _more_ enemies than we already have. Why do you asked?" he glanced at Cullen.

"Oh, just wondering. Could you recruit Priests or Templars, if needed?"

"Why yes, we could, but again, we try not to. We _do_ have this one young man, Alistair, he was a servant of the Chantry, set to be a Templar, prior to his being conscripted."

"What about Elves? Do you recruit them as well?"

"Of course. Dalish or from an Alienage, it doesn't matter. We also accept Dwarves, regardless of caste or clan."

"And are you permitted to marry?"

"Yes, you are." Understanding shone in his eyes, "While it's not frowned upon, nor encouraged, you can marry whomever you like, regardless of their background or race. In The Grey Wardens we are Brothers and Sisters, and all equal. You give up your old life after you take the Joining, as if being born again, as it were, and start anew."

"I… think my curiosity has been sated, ser. Thank you for answering my questions, Duncan."

"It was my pleasure. Now then, shall we continue on? I am eager for a rest."

"Oh yes, of course ser, I apologize."

"No need, my dear, no need." He smiled warmly, taking her arm and walking ahead, "So, tell me about your life here in the Tower."

**O**

"Wait, let me get this straight; you're going to ask him to recruit you, and you think I should ask him to take me, too?" Cullen was leaning on a table, arms crossed. He was just off duty, still in his armor except for helm and gloves, which were beside him on a chair. She was standing before him, arms crossed as well, and a petulant look on her face. His lips twitched a smile. They were alone, nicely hidden in a large closet of a rarely visited area of the Tower. Jowan and his lover were the only others who seemed to know of it, save for maybe Irving. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he winced and moved away from the table.

"Why not? It couldn't hurt to ask, could it? You heard him; you're permitted to be with whomever you want to! To marry even, regardless of race or background." The look in her eyes took his breath away.

"Neria, we have to think about this rationally, not let our emotions get the better of us. What if Greagoir won't let me leave? What if Duncan says no? What if he takes another Mage or Templar?" he sighed. That determined glint was back in her eyes. He knew there would be no talking to her now.

"But what if he doesn't? What if he takes _us_?" she took his hands in her own, "Cullen, this would be _**our**_ chance." Her voice cracked with emotion.

He played with her fingers, "What can I say, woman? You have a very convincing argument. But we have time, all the time in the world, to plan, to dream. He's not leaving until the end of the week. For now," He sighed, placing a hand on her neck, tracing the thin, white scar, "For now, let's just concentrate on the present. It's the best thing we have right now. It's the _only_ thing we have right now..."

She nodded, her eyes over-bright, bottom lip trembling just slightly. He glided a hand up her neck, cupping her cheek and ran a thumb over her lip. A warmth flowed through him, seductive in its serenity, and he could not help himself.

A tiny shock of sensation vibrated through them when their mouths touched. Slowly, at first, tenderly. He wrapped his arms around her waist, crushing her against him as his tongue caressed her bottom lip. A hunger took over, so powerful he could barely control himself. He lifted her, laying her on the table. Her hands gripped his hair and shoulders, while his roamed her back, searching for the buttons to her dress. His mouth moved to her neck.

"Cullen," Neria whispered, as if in prayer. At that moment his name held more meaning than the word of the Maker himself. Fear and apprehension clawed at her, but she refused to be pulled in. It wasn't like that time. This time, she wanted it. This time, she wanted him. Her body was throbbing, aching with need for _him_, and she wasn't going to let go.

With a frustrated sigh, he gave up on the buttons, reaching instead for her skirts, pushing them up, gliding his hands along her legs. She was fumbling with his belt. The room was silent, save for the rustling of their clothes and impatient panting. It was a wonder, then, how they couldn't hear the door open behind them…

"Neria!" Jowan shouted, dropping a basket of food and wine. His eyes were like saucers, darting between them, "Cullen?"

"Jowan…" he muttered tetchily. If looks could kil...

"Oh Maker! Oh d-dear, sweet Maker, I'm s-sorry!" he stammered, rushing for the door.

"Jowan, wait!" Neria called to him, but it was too late, he was gone. He did, however, lock the door behind him, and slid the key back under.

Cullen rested his forehead against Neria's and sighed, "Just as well, I suppose..."

"What do you mean?" she asked nervously.

"I'd much rather wait until we get away from this wretched Tower, and for a bed." He laughed softly as he watched an expression of delight spread across her face.

"Do you mean it? I didn't think- Oh Andraste! You're really going to ask him? Cullen, thank you! B-but are you sure? I don't want-"

"Yes I'm sure. I'm positive, in fact. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you. Even breaking my vows." Neria looked stricken, "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that… I would do absolutely anything in the world for you, even if it means breaking my vows to do it. You mean more than that to me, and if the Maker sees that as a sin, then let him deal with me as he will."

"Cullen, I think… No, I know that I lov-"He placed a finger over her lips and shook his head.

"No, not now. If you say that, then I might just have to take you right here and now." His eyes shone darkly with desire, "I want to wait. I want it to be right, and a few rushed minutes in an abandoned cloakroom is not right." He kissed her hand, "Wait until we're away from this place. We won't have to hide then. But for now, we had best straighten up and get back before anyone notices we're missing. I'm sure Jowan in a fluster will raise some eyebrows, especially since you're not running around with him, trying to calm the silly little bastard down."

****OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO****

"Neria? C-can we talk?" Jowan whispered from behind her.

"Andraste's ass, Jowan!" she recoiled, punching his arm, "You scared the crap out of me!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. But I really need to talk to you…"

"Oh, um… Is it about last night? I really don't know what to say, other than I feel just as bad, if not worse, about it than you. I just hope this doesn't make anything weird between us…"

"No, no, no! It has nothing to do with… last night…" he blushed, unable to meet her eye.

"Oh," she looked relieved, if not a little puzzled, "Then what's up?"

"I need to talk to you..."

"Going through another personal crisis?"

"Very funny. I'm serious though. Look, I don't really feel safe talking here." He looked around evasively.

"Okay, now you're starting to worry me."

"I've been… _troubled_. I'll explain, but come with me please?"

Neria just nodded, following him through the winding halls of Circle Tower.

**O**

"We should be safe here." He said, stopping in front of a statue of Andraste and a priest.

"Yeah, sure, the Chapel, the Templar's favorite haunt. You do realize there is a priestess standing right beside you?" Neria asked uneasily, and mildly fearful of her friend's sanity.

"I'm not a priest, just an initiate. And don't worry;" said the girl, "We'll be able to see anyone approaching from this angle."

"A few months ago I told you I… met a girl. This is Lily." Jowan gestured to her.

"My condolences, Lily… Wait, an initiate? That's forbidden…" Neria's hypocrisy was lost on her.

"So you can see why we want to keep it a secret." Added Lily drily.

"Lily's been given to the Chantry. She's not allowed to have… relations with men. If anyone finds out, we'll both be in trouble…"

"Well, obviously you can trust me. You know I won't tell anyone." She smiled warmly at the couple, but her unease was growing.

"Thank you! I knew you'd stand by me." He was visibly relieved, yet still seemed on edge.

"Great, get married, have some kids. Can I go now? The Chapel makes me way too uncomfortable…"

"Well, there is something else…"

**O**

'You must do this, for the good of the Circle.' Said Irving, as he paced the study. Compassion and empathy saturated his voice, as if he understood. How could he? What he was asking of her would destroy someone she loved. There were only two people for whom she could even claim such a feeling. Doing this might even pit the other against her!

'But what about the good of friendship? Of sympathy and plain old kindness? What about love?' she wanted to ask him. Instead she claimed a desire to see justice done, to see that the Chantry be held accountable for its members, just as the Circle would be…

**O**

"Jowan, I swear to the Maker that if we get out of here alive, I am going to kill you!" Neria yelled as she struck down the Sentinel Guardian.

"How was I supposed to know the basement would be infested with magic-infused, murderous suits of armor that guard the Chamber?"

"Don't forget the Robed Sentinels and Deepstalkers, darling." Lily wiped the blood from her dagger.

"Right, how could I forget? _Thank you_ for reminding me." He sneered.

"All I want to know is _why _do they_**bleed**_? I mean, I get it with the Deepstalkers, but the Sentinels make no sense!" Exasperation clung to Neria's words. Lily tried not to smile.

"Maybe it's a glitch?" offered Jowan.

"A _glitch_? By the Maker's Holy Prophet, what are you going on about?"

"You know, a glitch; an error in the programming of-"

She held up her hand, cutting him off, "No! Never mind. Forget I asked. Let's just keep going, the Apprentice Phylacteries are just up those stairs…" Her guilt, which was slowly burgeoning the closer they got to the Phylactery Chamber, was on the verge of breaking through. She shook her head, trying to clear her conscience, and ran up the stairs.

It was like an altar, with Tevinter statues in place of Andraste flanking either side, a silken cloth draped across the table and unlit candles scattered about. Rows upon rows of deep crimson-filled vials were arranged across the top.

As if it were calling to her, Neria knew exactly where it was. She tenderly, lovingly, plucked it from the table. His name was scrawled on a piece of paper attached to the vial. The blood swirled hypnotically inside. Tears clouded her vision. Blinking them back, she turned to him, and tried to smile.

"That's my Phylactery! You found it!" Jowan took it from her hands, "I-I can't believe this tiny vial stands between me and freedom." He held it out, dangling it in air, "So fragile… So _easy_ just to be rid of it, to end its hold over me…" He let go, and like the little vial, her heart shattered as it met the floor, "And I am _free_…"

"Then… let us move on…" Neria managed to keep her voice from cracking. 'It will be over soon…' she told herself. No matter which way she looked at it, no matter what she chose to do, she would have betrayed someone dear to her. This way, at least, she lived. This way, so will Jowan. If Tranquility could be called 'living'. His biggest fear coming true… Survival of the fittest, as Senior Enchanter Uldred would say.

"I do not want to stay here a moment longer!" Lily beamed at them, and Neria unexpectedly found an overwhelming hate for the damn woman bubble up inside her. Pushing her emotions to the back of her mind, she led the way back through the basement, and to the main floor of the Circle.

**O**

"We did it!" Jowan punched the air in triumph, "I can't believe it! Oh, my sister, thank you! We could never have-"

"So what you said _was_ true, Irving." Knight-Commander Greagoir's voice, though low, boomed through the empty room.

"I assure you, Knight-Commander, this isn't what it looks like!" Neria said calmly.

"Greagoir… I…" Lily blanched and hesitated, suddenly at a loss for words.

"An Initiate, conspiring with a blood mage. I am disappointed in you Lily." He walked up to her, examining her, "She seems shocked, but fully in control of her own mind. Not a thrall of the blood mage." He turned back to the First Enchanter, "You were right, Irving. The Initiate has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished." Greagoir rounded on Neria, "And this one. A mage of a few months, and already flouting the rules of the Circle."

"It's not their fault! This was **my** idea!" Jowan stepped in front of the women, as if he was going to protect them, if necessary. Neria felt gutted. He was her only friend, her only true friend in this entire damned Tower, and this was it, the end. The hate she felt for Lily earlier was now directed at herself. She prayed that Irving would remain silent about her part in all this, to save her best friend the pain of her treachery.

"She is here under my orders, Greagoir." Said Irving, "I take full responsibility for her actions."

Damn.

"You-you… How could you?" The pain in Jowan's eyes… "I've kept you're secrets! I've stayed by your side! I've loved you! You were my sister…"

"I… I'm sorry. I had to, they would have found out anyway…"

"Don't speak to me! I don't want to hear it. All these years, all we've went through! I thought I could trust you… Was that all as act, too?"

"Enough! As Knight-Commander of the Templars' here assembled, I sentence this blood mage to death. And this Initiate has scorned the Chantry and her vows. Take her to Aeonar!"

"Th-the mage's prison?" Lily trembled as the Templars' enclosed around them, "No! No, please! Not there!"

"No! I won't let you touch her!" Jowan pulled a dagger from his robes and stabbed his hand, unleashing a fury of dark magic. With a single gesture, he sent the Templars' and Irving careening across the room.

"By the Maker… Blood magic? How could you? You said you never-"

"I-I admit that I dabbled. I thought it would make me a better mage."

"Blood magic is evil, Jowan. It corrupts people, changes them!" Lily backed away from him, her confusion and hurt evident.

"I'm going to give it up! All magic! I just want to be with you. Lily, please come with me?" he begged

"I trusted you. I was ready to sacrifice everything for you." She closed her eyes. When she looked up at him again, he knew…"I don't know who you are, blood mage. Stay away from me!"

And with that, Jowan ran.

**O**

"Are you alright, child?" Irving asked as Neria she helped him up, "Where's Greagoir?"

"I knew it. Blood magic…" the Knight-Commander muttered angrily as he stood, "But to overcome so many… I never thought him capable of such power."

"He lied to me… He said he wasn't, would never… I just can't believe he did that." Disbelief stained her voice.

"None of us expected this." The First-Enchanter placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "Are you alright, Greagoir?"

"As good as can be expected given the circumstances." He pointed accusingly at them, " If you had let me act sooner this would not have happened! Now we have a blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down."

"He can't have gone far." The young mage hung her head, "You… You could still capture him." 'By the Maker, I hope you don't.' she thought.

"Believe me, we will use our every resource. Where is the Initiate?"

"I-I am here, s-ser." Lily was cowering in a corner.

"You helped a blood mage! Look at all he's hurt!" Greagoir roared.

"It's not her fault! She didn't know!"

"Save your breath, I can speak for myself." She hissed, "Knight-Commander, I was wrong. I was an accomplice to a… a blood mage. I will accept whatever punishment you see fit. Eve-even Aeonar."

"Get her out of my sight!" he turned back to Neria as two Templars dragged Lily away, "And you! You were in a repository full of magic locked away for a reason!"

"Did you take anything important from the repository, child?" asked Irving.

"Yes, this staff. Here, you can have it back. I only took it to aid us…"

"Hmph. Some honestly, at last. But you're antics have made a mockery of this Circle! Bah, what are we to do with you? Tranquility, perhaps?"

"What? No! I was just doing what I was told to! I had no idea he was a blood mage either!"

"As I said, she was working under my orders." The First Enchanter's voice was calm, but underneath he bristled with anger.

"And this improves the situation? The Phylactery Chamber is forbidden to all, save you and me!"

"I had my reasons." Irving crossed his arm over his chest and stared down Greagoir, eying him challengingly. But the Knight-Commander was not about to back down.

"You're not all-knowing, Irving! You don't know how much influence the blood mage might have had! How are we to deal with this? Just let her go and hope everything will be okay? I think not!"

Duncan slipped out of the shadows where he was watching and walked up to them. Smiling warmly, he placed a hand on Neria's shoulder and squeezed. "Knight-Commander, if I may?"

**O**

For as long as she could remember, she had wanted to leave the Tower. She wanted to run through the grass, feel the wind on her face, the cold sting of fresh snow. She was finally out.

The night sky, for all its glory, held no wonders for her. Nothing did. Her world had crumbled. She lost her best friend and her only home. She even lost her love. Neria's heart ached at the thought of never seeing Cullen again. She didn't even get to explain, to say good-bye..

This wasn't how it was suppose to happen.


End file.
